’t I do something a little less… grandiose?”My accountant was visibly disappointed. Then he brightened. “You could always go for a course of reconstructive dental prosthetics, and join a gym.”And that’s exactly what I did. Looking back, now, from my packing case beside
have to go back and start again at one. What usually happens is that I get to nine and think to myself, Bloody brilliant! Nine! And then its back to the beginning again.Its as if Im two people: Me, and the Official Me Observer (OMO). The OMO likes
’ assailed me with a welter of abusive chatter from a rotting tree stump, egged on by its wife and two, whip-tailed infant horrors. I chattered back at the family of green monkeys. The 23rd Psalm had no effect whatsoever, but the weather report for UK
on its spineless back is a mystery to compare with the Immaculate Conception.The BUPA ads tell us: You’re amazing. Bollocks. It’s precisely that sort of mealy-mouthed, sycophantic bullshit that gives the human body ideas above its station.The truth is
chalk downs, and hear the unceasing piccolo of larksong. Nothing takes you back like an old shirt.There were no larks this morning. The day was veiled by a curtain of drizzle, and even Oscar The World’s Fittest Dog looked dubious as he sniffed
to celebrate Sean Fishpools 30th birthday by climbing around 30 granite outcrops, or tors, in one vainglorious circumnambulation of the Moor. Id explained the plan to my sceptical but resigned wife. It isnt going to be quick (I wont be back until Sunday
into the enfolding arms of valleys, impossibly green after the stony austerity of the moor.This is assuming youre a horse, of course. Humans should avoid it like a plague of Dale Wintons.However, as a born-again-and-again Buddhist, I know that pain is merely a
